


The Red Chain of Fate

by MintyCoolness, mousaerato



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Adaptation of an RP Thread, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, NSFW, No Room For Poor Communication, Smut, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, The Chain Can Be A Zealous Shipper, Yaldabaoth Made A Crucial Mistake, [Sad Trumpet Noises for Yaldabaoth], soulmate!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25843903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintyCoolness/pseuds/MintyCoolness, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mousaerato/pseuds/mousaerato
Summary: The tale of the red string of Fate is well known; destiny linking two people together, No matter what. But it was always a passive concept...Not So, for one Akira Kurusu and Goro Akechi. Interference from beyond mortal ken has stated these two will be destined to fight. But such power amplified the passive connection already there. Now the String is a Chain; and it will allow neither to die in that underground room...((Reposted, with changes, Still a part of the Shuake Big Bang 2020.))
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 3
Kudos: 75
Collections: Shuake Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Due to circumstances that were brought to my attention, I had to remove certain parts of this fic. I still hope you enjoy this story, as me and my RP partner worked hard on it~

The body of the guard lay prone in a pool of his own blood, eyes glassy and empty. Just business as usual for the teenage hit man…

Goro turned around to face Akira, stepping towards him, and while it didn’t occur to him at that moment, he would have respected the way he seemed to keep his nerve, even when death was literally walking towards him. The glassy, far away look in the other’s eyes and the extensive smattering of bruises that dotted his pale skin like ink stains on paper seemed to make him pause, for a moment, a brief moment, before Goro continue approaching his rival.

This moment…was like every other for him, and he did not entirely seem like he was fully aware of anything else but his mission. He was not about to end their life, he was not anything… He was just an automaton, and perhaps not even that... He was just going through the motions and nothing registered…

**_\--blank…so blank, why--_ **

\--He levelled the gun slowly on Akira…he slowly squeezed the trigger… Just a little more–

The world suddenly came back into sharp focus and Goro yelped in pain, falling to his knees. Akira even started at the shout his as-of-yet would-be-killer let out, almost sitting up, fingers gripping the edge of the table, white-knuckled. Goro opened pained eyes to see, in horror, what was causing the lancing pain that was debilitating him.

An opaque, blood-red cuff with a chain that lead directly to his would-be victim’s left wrist…

“…N-No…”

Goro’s face scrunched up with pain as the red cuff glowed brighter, causing the burning sensation that was crippling the hitman. His fingers slowly inched towards the chain, desperate to tear it off, complete what he was sent here to do–

Another bright glow and suddenly, his wrist way weighed down to the desk, making him buckle to the ground. He made a pained sound, the other hand trying desperately to get back to his feet.

“N-No…I don’t want this. I h-hate you!”

It was a common tale in this part of the world; being connected to your destined partner by a red link. Someone who would be your soulmate, your match… But the stories usually said that it was a red _string,_ not a red _chain_. It was clear that Goro was not readily accepting; the more he fought against it, the more it pained him, kept him in place.

This…was not a passive bond…

_Why? Why now!? Why is this happening to me!?_

And while Goro practically writhed on the ground, Akira unsteadily got up from the chair, wincing, the pain he was already in before this clearly made worse by the phantom pain he could feel from the bond, pain that was not entirely his own; _hatred, contempt, anger, helplessness,_ Akira could perceive it all as the other felt it. But the pain brought a little more clarity, subtly breaking through the haze of drugs still in his bloodstream.

“I d-don’t - like this _either…_ this bond - _augh!_ \- the more you fight it, the more it’s gonna…hurt both of us…”

Goro’s only response, at first was to tug at the cuff again, which only resulted in another hot flare of pain that, this time, pinned him bodily to the cold, hard floor. It did little to pierce the heat and emotion that whirled in his body.

“Then why did it– AH! – have to be you!?!? Why do I have to be tied to you!? WHY!?”

More burning, more pain, as Goro’s fingers clasping onto his hair, trying to internally fight this connection’s natural defensive reactions--

**Calm down. Just calm down…**

Akira, after exerting some effort, released his grip on the table, closing his eyes, like he was getting ready to meditate. He let his hands lie flat against the table, palms pressed firmly to the surface. His right hand shook but he still managed to steady his breathing as he lowered his head. Slow, deep inhales followed by quiet exhales managed to distract him from Goro’s screaming, possibly helped by the substance he was given. 

**Don’t let the rage fool you.**

He searched his own memories between the increasingly distant jolts of pain, and he recalled the smile and curiosity on Goro’s face when they first met and his words about _fate._ The downward glance and sorrow in his voice when he talked about his mother and his childhood came next to Akira; the phrase _“My mother was the lover of a very bad man”_ was etched into his memory with all its shame and sorrow.

To him, Goro always seemed so happy in their work and private conversations together. It was the first time, Goro had said, that he had a friend.

He always stood closer to him than anyone else, too…

He knew that Goro was trying too hard to get his trust in all those gestures; his motives were all lies. But something - maybe the chain that connected them - told him that the contents of the gestures was sincere, deep down. And in his own heart, Akira wanted to get to know Goro - the real one - better as well.

With some more willpower, he remembered the look in Goro’s eyes when he entered the room a few moments earlier - inhuman, distant, hollow. Thinking again, Akira realized there was _no way_ that the person capable of the anger that seared his skin could be the same person who could kill in cold blood.

**Those were the eyes of someone locked away in their own mind and watching themselves act. The real one is who you met before - the one who wanted to be honest.**

**That one is your soulmate.**

And thus, Akira realised that the only way to counteract Goro’s hostile denial was peaceful acceptance and if they were truly linked like the myths said, there was a chance that same calm could soothe him.

Akira breathed deeply once more and tried to open his eyes. The detective struggling in front of him was a faint blur that came into sharper focus as he spoke in laboured tones.

“I know…this is less than ideal,” he started through gritted teeth. “But I’m willing to give it a try if you are—"

“--S-Stop…just, stop…”

The pain had sapped Goro’s energy, taking away the willpower or energy to struggle anymore, even as his wrist still weighed heavily on the ground. He could feel a _calm_ coming from the other person, like a cool salve on burned flesh. It was comforting, accepting, overwhelming…

“I have to kill you, I have to…kill…you…”

Useless tears came unbidden from his eyes, a sob being ripped from his throat… These weren’t the calculated risks he presented to Akira earlier at points during the year, these were involuntary affectations, weaknesses and some part of him still loathed to show the other.

“You think…that you can just make everything better, like you do with others? Y-You arrogant…b-bastard…”

His other hand joined the other on his face, wiping at his tears uselessly. It seemed like his wrist was not weighed down anymore…

“…You wanted us to meet earlier, didn’t you?”

The words came to Akira easily, but to his own ears they seemed disembodied and he couldn’t chalk it to his recent trauma; Goro had never said that to him, but Akira could discern that this was _definitely_ one of his thoughts.

He closed his eyes and brought a hand to the side of his head quickly. The vivid thought that seemed to pry its way into his head threatened to split his skull open. It was not a memory of his own.

**_The sensation of sounds blocked by earmuffs. A weight in the left hand that still felt unnatural. Paper targets, a hand on the right shoulder - heart racing, then a click–_ **

Akira shivered. “You were…14?” His voice was thin and breathy, not believing what his mind was showing him.

**_A car accident. Limbs unnaturally splayed on the ground over a deep red pool around the head. The smell of gunpowder. Blank. Empty. Fear, guilt, powerpridedisgust–_ **

His face paled to an even more impossibly pale shade as Goro’s words to him took on a new meaning: _“You think you can just make everything better like you do with others?”_

Akira shook his head, eyes involuntarily welling with the beginnings of tears like Goro’s had. Another memory not of his own creation:

**_A man’s voice - oddly familiar - giving the order: “You are to infiltrate them and eliminate them. Start with the leader.”_ **

**_A sense of the passage of time. A TV station, then…happiness?_ **

Akira sniffled and his eyes widened. His voice was watery but gentle as he tried to overcome the dread and uncertainty of it all: “Just put the gun away.” Recalling the memories of the gun, Akira added, “You don’t have to. You don’t.”

He could not change anything from what he understood now was Goro’s past. There were no words he could offer, no solace possible, no way to change what had already been done. From what Akira could tell, however, the _hitman_ in front of him took no joy in what he did, and despite any feelings of power and pride in the past, he felt only dread in the present moment.

He kept his eyes steady on Goro’s face and breathed. Akira knew he was no saint either with how easily he took to the handgun and knife and hoped – believed – that maybe they could find some understanding.

“This thing connecting us isn’t chance.”

He thought **I can’t fix anything that’s happened. But I want to know you anyway.**

The pain was fading away and Goro found himself rolling slowly onto his back, so that he gazed at Akira through misty, deeply troubled eyes. His mouth fell open slightly at the memory that flashed across his mind.

**_Some was getting assaulted, a cry for help and a determined shove of the assailant. He watches as the assailant– familiar, he knew that face– looks up at him angrily, promising retribution. Then lights and helplessness as he was dragged away._ **

Goro winced at the intrusiveness of it all, having another person be able to see into his memories, his thoughts, his feelings… It was one reason he loathed to ever think he would have a soul mate. He did not need an invisible force, whether it was fate or chance, dictating who he chose to be with. He wanted it to be his choice.

But at the same time, as he gathered from the way Akira spoke, he saw what was within him…and he did not recoil or flinch or offer any useless pity. He could feel the other, a connection that he contradictory yearned for, craved with all his heart.

And the flash of what he saw told him at least this much…that the man who abandoned him and the man who gave Akira his criminal record were one and the same. He did not know whether the gods were blessing him or laughing at him, creating another tangible link like that.

His eyes drifted toward the gun in his hand. Slowly, he let it slip from slack fingers, watching it falling with a clink onto the hard ground…

Akira panted a sigh of relief as the shared tension drained from his body, taking with it the clarity and lack of pain from his own wounds. Experiencing someone else’s memories _alone_ was surreal; the added pain and adrenaline of the moment nearly made it traumatic. Akira slowly rose from his chair, like he had forgotten that he had limbs and made his way to the body on the floor, the burning from the chain on his arm at last gone.

He looked down at Goro’s face, noting his bleary, thousand-yard stare at the ceiling. Akira understood his _friend_ wanted no pity, no condescending comfort, or platitudes. It was a sentiment he understood too well; sometimes, reality was too broken to pretend to smooth over with words. It is what got him into this to begin with, after all…

Instead of trying to stay standing and offering his hand (a gesture he was sure would infuriate Goro), Akira knelt next to him, exhausted and spent. The drugs were steadily wearing off, but he had spent a good bit of his strength trying to stay lucid; it was catching up with him.

He caught a glimpse of Goro’s gun on the floor…

Heavy, sleepy eyes looked at Goro’s teary ones, as the other slowly turned his head to him when he approached. Akira kept his eyes open through force of will, keeping him in his sights. He knew that his would-be murderer already gave him some semblance of an answer in disarming himself, but he was not going to force anything.

With the memory of searing pain still fresh in the mind, they both felt weary on a bone-deep level. No surprise to Goro, considering the other was worked over by interrogation officers…and there was this weird empathy going on.

Goro rolled over onto his side, groggily wiping at his face and looking at the other with tired eyes…

“This…might be difficult…”

There were so many ways to interpret that statement. He had to safely get Akira out of here, without being seen. Even he, as the detective on the case, would have a hard time explaining why he was escorting the main suspect out of the building.

But there was also this bond; something that, once acknowledged and accepted, could not be ignored. He did not think he would ever forget how it feels to have someone to hate and admire tethered to you. He…wanted to keep this, explore this.

They needed to be safe, though…

“Let’s…go to my place. They’ll have little reason to go there to look for you…”

Akira exhaled with relief - Goro was receptive to this. Curious, if nothing else. He nodded in understanding and decided to trust him, looking to him for the next step. He could perceive traces of Goro’s thinking bleeding into his own: _a way out of the building without being scrutinized…_

A thought occurred to him of his own creation; he chuckled at its cruelty. “If you’re really going to do this, you’ve got much bigger problems than hiding me.”

 **You’re giving up your career - both of them - if you do this,** he thought.

Goro slowly sat up, and it seemed to exhaust to do so. He shimmied over to Akira’s side, head plopping onto the other’s shoulder as he brought out his phone, showing the Metaverse Navigation App.

“We can quickly head into the other world and safely make it out… Then we'll take a back route to my place…”

He managed to feel a glimpse of Akira’s earlier thoughts, his worry and…he had a point…

Things would be…difficult now that he had chosen to go down this route. Not only would they have the police on them, but Shido would not take his defection with any kind of grace. It was…going to be a steep path. But of Goro had learned anything, it was that neither of them took the easy route, ever…

“Shall we…?”

 **You really are clever** _,_ Akira thought. Even with all the suspicion that had surrounded Goro before, Akira could not help but admire his intellect.

He could intuit that he and his partner, for this moment, were truly on the same wavelength: they were going to make a way out for both of their sakes. The best news about it? Access to healing magic, which both of them, especially Akira himself, definitely needed.

He gave Goro a cautious smile: “Alright, let’s do this.”

The compliment about his intelligence did not go unnoticed by Goro, who tiredly preened under the praise, before he pressed the button on the app, sending them into the other world. Mementos…

Maybe it was the lack of energy due to him attempting to sever the link and kill Akira, but when they arrived in the other world, they were thrown onto the ground. Goro got onto his hands and knees, limbs shaking.

“D-Damnit…”

He was not in the white princely outfit that the other would have seen him in before. Maybe it was because he had no intention of hiding anything from his partner now, but it seemed like he had gone back to his default outfit. His dark armour…

“That…was a lot harder than usual…”

Akira panted and rasped, trying to calm himself as he quickly got to his feet, prepared to summon Parvati for a desperately needed healing spell for the two of them. Before he could do it, however, a still-novel sensation bloomed in his head: the thoughts of the person still on the floor.

_He’s going to know._

Joker looked down at Goro with a shock: the slick, sinister outfit on his frame was a far cry from the regal gold and white Akira was familiar with. It did not take long for him to realize what it meant: **Goro was the attacker. He was Black Mask. He–**

 _“You_ killed Haru’s father?”

Goro slowly eased himself onto his knees, at least having the good grace to look Akira in the eye. Because of course the other was going to figure it out… He wouldn’t be the person Goro hated and loved if he didn’t.

“…Yes…I did…”

It was matter-of-fact, because he saw no reason to deny it now, even if Goro couldn’t remember exactly how the job went down. He shut himself off, like with the majority of his other ‘jobs’. But still…it was one of the few jobs that he was given that he regretted the consequences of. Because you could never get him to feel guilty for actually doing it…

But he just wished that it was easier on Haru…

“…I killed a fair few people, Akira…”

 **How in the world could my soulmate be so casual about killing?** Akira thought, not caring if Goro would hear or feel the sentiment. There was at least hesitation and pain when he tried to kill him earlier; the feeling Akira could sense now, however, was utterly _blank._ His eyes winced shut as he received an empathic reply: **_It was only my job. I didn’t think about it. Though I do feel bad for Haru._**

Akira gritted his teeth and looked at Goro, part stunned, part horrified, and part…sympathetic. He knew to some degree what it was like to commit all manners of crimes during his “job.”

**_It all had to be done to take him down._ **

And Akira understood very well what it meant to do things for the sake of a wider-ranging goal. His stomach turned at the thought of murder, however. Even so, he made a promise to see this through, knowing very well that Goro was not the polite or charming detective prince he appeared to be. There were bound to be obstacles - he just was not expecting them to be like this.

Closing his eyes, Akira brought his hand to his mask. He thought of Haru - the gentle yet dashing, articulate girl who patiently nurtured plants and wanted freedom and friendship - and knew that this was not a decision he could make alone.

Parvati was not the right bond to summon.

In a voice soft as breath, Akira instead called upon _Titania._ He looked Goro in the eyes, though it wasn’t necessary - after all, Goro could feel and hear his thoughts: **_if Haru would forgive you, then this should be proof. Let’s see if it works._**

He spoke the words for a moderate healing spell - _mediarama_

Goro didn’t need the empathetic connection to see the horror and shock that was on Akira’s face. Honestly, he wouldn’t expect anything less… No… What he was expecting was something more than this. Anger, disgust, fear, all the usual reactions he imagined someone more settled than himself to have. He even expected physical violence…

**_My match is…this blasé about killing?_ **

This was what the empathy was telling him about Akira’s true reaction. He honestly did not know how to process it, even less so when Akira summoned a Persona, a grand and regal fairy, Titania he believed she was called… Then he felt the wash of a healing spell over him.

It was…colder than usual, almost painfully so… But it healed his wounds and restored his energy, regardless. Because something about this Persona wanted him to live. And it filled him with a sense of awe and guilt…

“…Futaba…as well…” he said slowly, as he got up, stance a little stronger than before. “I killed her mother as well…my second kill…”

 **Her too? Have you been hunting us for years?** Akira thought.

Titania glowed with rays of electric blue light that consumed her form, leaving her a mass of vivid, otherworldly warmth. The gentle, queenly sprite faded then, lines of her body shifting, growing to fill a larger space behind Akira.

His eyes narrowed as he looked Goro in the eyes. They were on healthy, equal footing now, both standing with only minor fatigue. Haru’s suffering was palpable to Akira, but Futaba’s was something he had to see every day on her face - and in her palace - until the Sphinx had been bested and her shadow accepted.

The light behind him faded, leaving in its wake the winged, fearsome form of Kurama Tengu, waiting with vigilant eyes trained on Goro’s face.

He spoke at last; voice revealing an edge and growl he couldn’t suppress: “She wanted to believe in you, but she had you pegged ages ago.”

It was a snap of cold fury that had animated him, but Akira looked down at the now opaquer red chain on his wrist and forced himself to clear his mind. **It must be Futaba’s choice, too, he** thought.

A flash of a conversation he never had filled his mind: **_“I need the research. Make it look like an accident or a suicide. Be quick.”_**

Akira’s stomach twisted - another empathetic response from Goro’s memory - and he managed barely to swallow back the bile in his throat before he paused to collect his thoughts.

 ** _It was work. I didn’t question_** _,_ Goro’s thoughts added. **_I would have done anything for him._**

Another thought - dark, small, and hidden - buried its way into Akira’s brain. The implications and memories it carried with it trickled and slid down his throat like wax, seeming to coat his heart in a blur of **_need, contempt, and love._**

His eyes went wide then. “He’s your _father?_ ”

A hollow laugh, filled with empty amusement came from the Goro’s throat, when he realised this connection would hide nothing from the other. His darkest secrets were being laid bare by this red chain…and all at once, he felt the weight that did not come from physical force, but from one’s defences being torn aside.

“I…was going to destroy him…”

His body began to shake, fists curling of their own accord.

“He was going to pay for abandoning her, abandoning me. I was going to ruin his life, just like he ruined mine.”

His face snapped up to look at Akira’s, expression wild!

“So, I _scraped_ and _bowed_ like a dog, like his own little puppet, doing every little thing he asked of me. And when he won the election, I would reveal my status to the world, smashing everything he built, so he would have _no choice_ but to acknowledge me!!!”

Akira’s stature tensed and his eyes stayed trained on Goro’s face _._ He looked like a wild animal - pupils small, toothy grin queasy and unhinged - and his voice was unsteady, rasps and growls combined with barked laughs. He looked like he was being consumed by a raging flame.

He offered a cautious question, keeping his voice gentle and just above a whisper: “You think you’re _ruined?”_

Akira bit his lip and swallowed back the sick feeling that was rising in his throat. This kind of malice and rage overwhelmed him, and the backs of his legs tingled with the start of queasiness. That same empathy threatened to burn him alive, it seemed. Still, he remained on his feet, one hand pressing to his head in pain.

**How could one person be so full of hate?**

Kurama Tengu still loomed over the scene vigilantly. Akira attempted to focus his thoughts on the bond that laid there. Futaba was able to cleave the truth from the lies in practically every situation she encountered since her shadow and sought to understand. 

**Even though she had a feeling about you, she still protected you when you needed it. She wanted to give you a chance.**

Joker looked upward at Kurama Tengu and nodded. He cast _Red Wall -_ protection against fire - on both of them. He exhaled sharply in relief, relishing the temporary respite from the bubbling, boiling pain, and gradually approached Goro with steady steps.

He offered no pity to him; what Goro wanted was not to be coddled or pandered to like some pathetic creature. His facade may have been fake, but Joker knew it was based on a germ of truth - a truth that Goro had just inadvertently confessed. **_I don’t want to be abandoned anymore. I will not be a ruined person for what others did to me._**

There were many things about Goro’s life that Akira could not understand, but the feeling of being rejected unfairly and thrown away for no good reason…that _was_ something he understood, even if was just a little. He did not extend his hand to Goro, but rather raised it to his own line of vision, keeping the red glove just close enough to his face in a defensive gesture.

There was nothing Akira could say, no magic spell or salve that could ever sooth over what he was coming to understand about Goro. All he could do was be there, offer to share the burden, and try.

And all at once, the rage, grief, hatred came to a boiling point and Goro looked much like a man adrift at sea, being tossed around by feelings that he had bottled up for so, _so_ long. His hands shot out towards Akira like vipers and dug into the other’s arms, all at once lashing out and scrabbling for some anchor to his sanity.

“Of course, I’m ruined! I was ruined before I even had a chance at life! My _father_ abandoned me, my _mother_ killed herself in shame for ever birthing me and every single person I met took joy in reminding me that I didn’t deserve to exist because I wasn’t _born_ right!”

His hands squeezed tighter around Akira’s arms and if he were in a better state of mind, he would have felt the bend of the other’s bones underneath his grip. It was the action of a desperate man…

“And you know what!? If I had a chance to do everything I did again, I would! Because it was the only goddamn thing keeping me from putting a knife to my wrist, a rope around my neck, a bullet to my head!!!”

But among the roiling emotions threatening to consume him…was a small voice, a desperate plea, a S.O.S that came across in the desperation of his expression that wanted desperately to be heard…

**_I don’t want pity, but… Oh god, Akira, help me, please!!!_ **

Joker hissed and twisted his mouth into a wince as he swallowed back the jolt of pain, labouring to keep himself steady, flinching from being grabbed, the vague memory of the interrogation room still haunting him. A sickness still churned in his stomach, fuelled by a primal fear in place of the former rage. Even without the bond, Akira could tell from the quaver in Goro’s barked confessions and the feral look in his eyes that he was losing his hold on himself. 

Akira closed his eyes and tried to focus on what Kurama Tengu and Titania had elucidated for him: **his friends wanted to help Goro. They could forgive him. Doing so himself would be okay, despite the circumstances.** With that in mind, Joker struggled against the vice-like grip on his arms and brought his red-gloved right hand over the one on his left arm that tore at him like an animal’s claw. His fingers wrapped gently around it, covering it.

The glow and glower of Kurama Tengu faded away. Akira tried again to read Goro’s expression without condemnation or pity, keeping his glance steady and open. A bell-clear memory rang through his mind as he looked at the one he was bound to, a confident and self-assured voice that cleaved through the madness with supernatural precision: _Release your rage._

“You have…every right to be angry,” he started, grip on Goro’s hand tightening. “I won’t tell you otherwise.”

It was a small statement, but it was true: Akira could not tell someone in Goro’s situation that the fury in his heart from being abused, used, and thrown around was unjustified. He could not condone his decisions, but both of them knew that by now. 

An unspoken thought bubbled to the surface as he tried to find common ground with Goro; **I don’t know if I can say I wouldn’t have ended up in the same place if I were you.**

“…What?”

And then, like water thrown on a fire, those words smothered the boiling anger and despair within him. The energy used to maintain those turbulent emotions seemed to trickle away, causing him to ease his grip on Akira’s arms, hands falling limply to his sides. He stared at him, mouth agape in shock, heart pounding like a drum to the rhythm of his disbelief.

_“I’m sure people will like you for who you are if you tell them~”  
“Forgive and forget. It’ll be easier on you that way.”  
“Wouldn’t it feel better if you just…let it go?”_

Goro considered them all liars, who had no idea what they were talking about. In a society where one was supposed to respect authority and family, even if they wronged you, how could forgiveness come easily? He would not forgive, and he resented how it seemed to come so easily to them. They were not bastards; they didn’t have society telling them that they shouldn’t exist–

But…Akira was telling him that he could be angry. That he could shout, could scream, could lash out. Because the world had wronged him, even if he could feel the condemnation for his abhorrent actions from across the bond. It was…affirmation. Justification… An acknowledgement that the grief, anger sadness he was feeling and had felt throughout his life…was okay…

**_It so easily could have been the other way around…_ **

And then…Understanding. Akira was…understanding him. He could feel the similarities between them and Goro could not help it, but… He started to cry. Tears trickled down his cheeks and he did not even bother to wipe them away. Why should he, after all?

“A-Akira–”

He cried. His hands went to his face and he cried. Great, ugly sobs torn themselves from his throat, but he wasn’t in any condition to care at this point. He was so relieved, so happy… 

Joker - no, Akira - brought a hand to Goro’s shoulder as the latter wept. He kept a thoughtful, cautious distance, cognizant of his friend’s ( **friend?** ) pride. He needed to vent, not to be coddled. 

He recalled his own rage when the consequences of his actions became apparent: the condescending glares from the police as they took him in, the formal declaration of false charges in front of his parents, the hours of gritted teeth and anguish of hearing his parents argue over how to handle the news, the mocking scoffs when he willingly took the plea bargain he _shouldn’t have had to take in the first place…_

**I could have really hurt someone. And I still want them to pay. We’re not that different. But we have to keep going forward.**

_That_ was the difference between them, Akira believed. Goro had stayed stuck, bottling up his true feelings, while Akira never made any illusion of being content with what he had been dealt. Sure, he was quiet about it, but his actions as Joker made those sentiments _loud and clear._ Goro never had the chance to keep moving - he was strung around by the system instead.

“Let’s keep walking,” he directed. Being stuck in the cognitive world in compromised states was _not_ a good idea, even if they _were_ fully healed physically. “We can talk more when we’re out of here.”

Goro’s sobs eventually quieted down, as he pulled his hands away, furiously rubbing away the tears tracks that were no doubt on his face. A hand lingered on the one that was on his shoulder, the clink of metal gauntlets against the leather of the other’s gloves.

“We just need to make it to the Entrance. It’s not far from here… I take the route all the time…”

When you had an occupation such as his, one needed quick escape routes and the one he was going to lead Akira down was one of them. In fact, Goro even knew how to get to the Diet Building from here. But right now…he was exhausted, both emotionally and physically. He removed his hand from Akira’s, smoothing himself down in an attempt to right himself.

“We need to be quick. It wouldn’t have been long before they discovered that you have disappeared...”

He turned on his heel, leading the two of them down the path, confident that Akira would catch up.

Akira followed, finding himself able to get on equal footing with Goro easily. It took only a few moments for the two of them to be running neck and neck with each other. One benefit to the connection they shared was that he did not need to wait for Goro to give explicit directions for the next steps - he could see them as clearly as if he had planned the route himself.

As they made their way through the strange, unmarked path, Akira took a quick glance at Goro. His eyes were clearer now and filled with a determination he couldn’t help but admire. It was something he liked about him even as a teammate: Goro knew how to put his feelings aside and focus on the task at hand with a clinical objectivity. The reason for that skill was clear now, but that explanation did not take away the fact that it was still something good in and of itself.

He continued down the route with Goro without speaking a word. Being on the same wavelength, working together towards a common goal, being on the same page and the same side for once without deception…

 **I think I always wondered what that would be like with you** ,Akira thought. Certainly, Goro would know, but at this point, it did not make sense to feel shy about it.

Whenever Goro usually took this route before, it was always in a rush, a haste to get away. He was always alone as he went down this path, obviously enough. It was kind of just what happened when you were your father’s lone hitman…

This time though, Akira was beside him, easily keeping pace with him, not needing any instruction on where to go. He felt…good, knowing that for whatever reason, he and another person were truly on the same wave-length. It was…comforting and exhilarating all at once.

It would be a feeling that would say to Akira… 

_So did I…_

In no time at all, they arrived that the Entrance. Knowing that Akira was there, Goro got out his phone and activated the Metaverse App, transporting them to the train station in the real world. 

“Let’s go,” he said to Akira, pocketing his phone and walking into the city. “We’re not far now…”

Even if they did not have the benefit of this connection, the _‘Act Natural’_ was subtly implied. The good news about “acting natural” meant that there was no need for idle chatter. Not that either of them needed it by that point. 

Akira walked with him wordlessly while a dull sense of deja-vu bloomed in the corner of his mind. Though he was walking to a place he had never been, he could somehow see it clearly in his mind and walked confidently and calmly by Goro’s side. There was no need to _act_ natural in terms of the walk to his apartment - thanks to the bond, it _was_ natural.

A fleeting moment of clarity dawned upon Akira as they walked: **this whole thing is fucking surreal. How could we go from being so bitter and filled with distrust to walking practically arm in arm to my would-be-murderer’s home?** It felt like he was out of his own body, sleepwalking in a dreamscape that looked like the real world.

 **I wish my dreams were like that again sometimes** _,_ he thought. **The jail is foreboding…**

_Jail? …Are you talking about…that place?_

**You’ve been there too?**

_Only once…whoever it was I met there…He seemed to leave me to my own devices…_

That blue room, circular and confining, with cells and strange music blaring from the speakers, a one-woman wail that sounded beautiful, but seemed somehow…wrong. Goro could remember a set of twin guards, two old souls that seemed stuck in the bodies of little girls and a strange man with a deep, gravelly voice and a long nose, complete with a glint in his eyes that screamed untrustworthy and creepy. As far as he could recall, he had only been once, and he wasn’t even sure what they had talked about…

But, at the end of that tangent of thought, Goro realised the same thing that he felt that Akira did as well; That this was strange beyond all measure, that they would be so…comfortable in this moment, as much as they could be when they seemed to be on the run and he has attempted to murder the other. They just fell easily into step with the other and he could not help but take stock at just how strange it was in theory…

But…a part of him was glad it was like this. Just to have this moment of peace and synchronicity with another person. It was something he craved for the longest time, more than Akira would ever know, but he was sure he would be able to get an idea. 

The walk to his apartment seemed to pass quickly and Goro made quick work of unlocking the door, ushering Akira quickly inside. He seemed acutely aware that there were Sentai merchandise lying around the place that the other would quickly be able to see, but he was not in the mood to explain himself and his passions. Besides…it offered a glimpse into what his living area, his only sanctuary was like.

“Welcome…to my apartment, I suppose…”

It was all too surreal - the shared but distinct memories of the Velvet Room, the unnatural familiarity of the room he was in, the strange feeling resembling _companionship_ with the one who just moments earlier had a gun trained to his head. It was…overwhelming, finally…

Pain and fatigue washed over Akira’s as the adrenaline rush from the last near-hour thinned out and dissolved. Silently, he found himself walking - practically sleepwalking - to the small couch in the living room, letting his weary body fall slack against the cushions and fabric. He heaved a sigh with a throaty rasp to it and let his eyes close for a few seconds…

He opened them after a moment, taking in the similarly exhausted form still standing, glancing over him with a mix of curiosity and anxiety. Was Goro nervous about something? Certainly, they were past that point, odd though that reality was.

“I don’t care about the Sentai stuff,” he croaked in an anemic, rough voice. “I like them too.”

**Just sit down with me…I know you’re tired.**

Goro heeded Akira’s invitation, sitting beside him on the sofa, not even making a noise as his head flopped onto the other’s shoulder of his own volition, his body seeming to decide that his shoulder was the most comfortable thing to rest on at that moment. It was warm, cozy, being this close to Akira and the lethargy they both felt give the atmosphere a weighted, yet relaxing feel. Goro could not remember the last time he felt this…peaceful…

“I didn’t like showing this to people. A detective can be ‘smart’, but heaven forbid he be a ‘geek’…”

The world certainly seemed to have pre-conceived notions. If one tried to step out of their bounds, then they had to remake themselves to fit into the mould that wanted to break. A ‘child’ could not be a ‘detective’ unless they also had at least one of the other criteria. It was…demoralising. But Akira seemed to care little about that…even share in his hobby…

_…How can I be like you?_

**_This is nice…_ **

The thought floated through Akira’s hazy mind so naturally; he could not tell if it was his own or Goro’s. The weight on his shoulder and the scent of sweat and gunpowder were strangely welcome to him - natural, even.

His vision blurred as heavy eyelids slid closed once again, leaving him unable to see his limbs unconsciously toiling against the exhaustion and deep fatigue. An arm wrapped around Goro’s shoulders, fingers lazily brushing at the fabric he found there; his other hand found Goro’s gloved one, and languidly laced their fingers together.

It did not feel wrong or right - Akira was far too drained to _think_ or piece together something like that. All he knew was that it was _comfortable._

“Just be yourself,” he whispered in a thin, reedy tone. Another statement dropped from his lips: “I think I would have liked you…a lot more…” 

“…The real me…is ugly…”

**Ugly? I think you’re hot.**

Akira _knew_ what he meant by “ugly” - the anger, the emptiness, the despair - but in his fatigue, he could not censor his thoughts. Goro did not have the energy to even admonish the other for his slip…

Goro knew that no-one wanted to see the mentally-damaged, cynical bastard orphan who played with action figurines and preferred cheap pancakes and sweets. They wanted the smart, pretty-boy detective, who knew how to smile for the camera and say the right words. Some people even just wanted a subservient puppet, willing to kill at a moment’s notice. No-one ever wanted the real Goro Akechi…

No-one…except Akira, apparently…

“The real me…tried to kill you. The real me disassociates a lot… The real me hates this society. I’m not even sure who the real me is sometimes. So, how can you say that you want the real me?”

“So that’s why I kept zoning out…it was you…”

There were times in the Palace where Joker would feel suddenly blank and empty, seized by something outside of himself. His teammates would have to help him reorient himself, holding and shielding him until it passed. He thought maybe it was a case of not being able to control his power, but with the realization of who was on the other end of his chain, those moments of weakness and unreality suddenly made more sense.

“You…could feel that too? Is that why…”

There was one moment, when Goro was going after Okumura, and he felt the usual sensation of the world melting away, emotions shutting down as he did his usual job. One may have called his sanity into check, but it helped keep the weight of his actions off his heart. It was the only way he could survive…

But as Goro killed Okumura, a sudden, inexplicable feeling of _empathy_ welled up within him, foreign, unsettling, and shaking him to his core. It was a flash of bright light among the darkness and it had him panicking for a while after the fact. Was he getting weak? Was the weight of his sins finally getting to him? Was the guilt finally too much to bear? He did not know then, but now that this bond was acknowledged, it made sense that the empathy came from Akira. He was the one that temporarily broke the spell of his disassociation…

Sensing the other’s train of thought, Akira squeezed the other’s now bare hand, feeling the warmth there before letting himself relax more, slumping into the couch and taking Goro down with him. He lazily swung his legs up onto the couch and adjusted the two of them, limbs a strange, warm mess knotted up in each other. It felt good, comfortable, _comforting._ Any rational thought telling him to _stop_ was miles away…

He looked up at Goro who was now resting on top of him and brought a hand to his hair, carding through it sleepily, as if trying somehow to calm him. He was not sure where this confidence in touching him came from - did Goro think about this before?

“I don’t like fake…besides,” he said with a small laugh, his own train of thought weering back to a previous point, “I think I’ve proven I can handle you.” 

Goro took stock of whatever sensations he could feel, the warmth of Akira’s body, the feel of his uniform against his bare cheek, the curl of fingers around his gloved hand. An urge came to him and he briefly took his hand away, taking off his gloves before grabbing Akira’s hand again. More warmth this time… The comforting feel of skin on skin…

**This should be strange - why doesn’t it feel strange?**

Being so wrapped up in another person - let alone someone like _Goro_ \- was not something Akira had any experience with. Though the greatest extent of his experience with physical affection was a held hand and a kiss on the cheek, having the detective close to him like this - touching him like this - felt as natural as running his hands down his own body. 

From a factual standpoint, Akira understood: the chain between them let them share feelings. It made sense that certain sensations would begin to feel like second nature. Even still, the warm sense of tranquillity and familiarity stood in stark contrast to everything else. The _room_ felt surreal despite it being a daily presence to Goro - why did _this_ feel so much easier?

He already admitted - to himself and the one atop him - that in terms of appearance, the other was not entirely unappealing. Still, that small confession was not enough to explain the way he felt so at ease bringing his free hand to Goro’s hip, lightly squeezing it before his fingers brushed curiously just above his backside.

Heavy, sleepy eyes looked up at Goro’s face. Even through the fatigue, Akira could tell that he looked _happy._ The fingers in his hair brushed at the brown locks again before settling on the back of his head. 

**This is…something you’ve wanted, isn’t it…?**

_…Yes…It is…More than I could express…_

If one were to ask him outright, Goro wouldn’t be able to pinpoint just when he had developed this longing, this desire for Akira, something that was hidden, mired among the resentment and jealousy that he also had for the other. He had it so easy, it seemed; friends who loved him and didn’t care about his criminal record, power in the form of the Wildcard that he seemed to take easier to and the loyalty and esteem of his teammates. Why was it so easy for him, when Goro had to scrape and bow for one little shred of respect?

But…that was a wall, hiding his true feelings of admiration, friendship and even attraction, that no amount of anger and envy could ever drown out. It was detrimental to his goals and he was certain that whatever he was feeling would never be reciprocated, due to the obvious distrust that the other had for him. It was dangerous and he was pushing it by even spending time with Akira to begin with…

But they were here now, having created a bubble for themselves, just him and Akira and the feel of this connection that some higher power saw fit to give to them. This was theirs…no-one else’s… And it gave Goro a certain amount of peace and a profound sense of joy…and it was the feeling that makes him close the gap between his and Akira’s lips, fleeting yet warm…

It was his first kiss.

**I’m not going to overthink this. I don’t want to.**

The response came as quickly as Goro’s thoughts - hazy, erratic, needy - flooded his own: **_Don’t pull away from me. Don’t reject me. Don’t think so hard it. Just let me have this, just this once…_**

Akira unconsciously parted his legs and pulled Goro closer to him as he kissed back languidly. Though he was exhausted, Akira sensed a mutual _hunger_ between them - with each slide and brush of his lips against Goro’s, the hunger grew, despite the feeling of kissing being what they both craved. 

All felt warm - impossibly, deliriously warm - as Akira tilted his head to kiss deeper, pressing his mouth against Goro’s and lingering there. He occasionally kissed at the corners of his mouth, uncertain why it seemed so correct, and followed the feeling of need and hunger to continue. His left hand’s fingers round their way deeper into the locks of Goro’s hair, _tugging_ at them lightly as if testing his reaction. His right hand gripped tighter at his hip, fingers lazily tracing over the small of his back without reaching for his backside. He could feel a _desire_ there, but even with the shared connection, some things had to go slowly…

Still, the _need_ and interest was growing - he could feel himself becoming more eager as he took Goro’s lower lip between his own and bit teasingly, sucking at it enthusiastically. Before he could stop himself - before he could _judge himself -_ Akira skimmed his tongue over the same swollen, sensitive lip.

**No, I’m not going to think about this…at all…**

It did not make sense. None of it did. Their friendship, their bond, their _now obviously mutual attraction_ …but for one fleeting moment, Akira did not want to think about what had just transpired earlier. Reality, right now, was not important.

_Did you already kiss someone??? You have had to, right???_

To Goro, that was the only ‘logical’ explanation for why he suddenly could slot against the other so easily, body placing itself perfectly and comfortably between the other’s legs, lips falling perfectly into sync with Akira’s. It was a warm, hazy, almost euphoric feeling of attraction and arousal, embers stoked by one hand in his hair and the other tracing patterns on the small of his back. Yet, for all the sensation that this moment, this bond could give him, there was something still unsatisfactory. Something missing…

It became clear with the touch of lips, the distinct thoughts coming from the other, the **_I’m not going to ponder this anymore for now_** , the unhindered moan from his chest that rumbled between them, that Goro was suddenly, _acutely_ aware of this desperate desire for closeness. It was a want that he could remember having for most of his young life, it was his main motivation for anything and everything he did. But this need was greater, a strange thought that he more of the other against him.

 _Please… I want to get closer…I_ need _to get closer.._.

One hand went to Akira’s hair, tugging at the strands in a way that might have been painfully off-putting to others, but Goro somehow knew that the other would like. He plunged his tongue into the other mouth, practically inhaling.

Akira let out an involuntary chuckle at Goro’s enthusiasm for kissing; even without the bond, he could tell it was his first one. The small laugh was quickly stifled, however, and replaced by a tight, pleased _grunt_ that turned into an affirmative hum. Akira did like a hand in his hair, he learned - and the pulling feeling was even better. The urge and need to be closer was all he could think of; he couldn’t tell whose thought it was anymore.

Akira’s hands rested on Goro’s hips, tightening his grip and urging him downward, making him rut against him as the sounds of their lips connecting because louder and more insistent. The feeling of having someone on top of him like this was new, but the need to relieve the heat and pressure that built between his legs certainly wasn’t. Minutely, he bucked up to meet Goro’s encouraged movements, feeling all too thrilled at the sparks of pleasure that came with them.

His hands slid around to Goro’s back, feeling at the sport where his shirt, pants waistband, and belt all seemed to meet. Akira clutched at the white fabric, fingers digging into the shirt to untuck it. He hesitated then; **Is this too much?**

A response came in the form of a grunt and a _yes_ sputtered through clenched teeth from the one above him; Akira learned in that moment that he _really_ liked hearing someone turned on enough to talk so passionately and without reservation. Eager - desperate - to hear it again, Akira took the hint and began pulling his shirt out of its all-too-perfect placement. Once he was done, Akira brought his hands to the top button of Goro’s shirt and paused.

He broke their round of kissing, mouth suddenly lighter and needier, and looked up at him through the haze of arousal and instinct. As good as it felt to be tangled up in each other, Akira was still nervous.

**Are you okay with this?**

_Of course I am! Stop being so fucking demure about this!_

What little logic Goro had was quickly pointing out that, of course Akira was going to be nervous! It was most likely his first time… But that last scrap of rational thought was quickly consumed, like a piece of paper in a fire. Because their desires were quickly becoming one and the same, marked by the exchange of saliva and the movements of hips against the other. The point of no return had been passed a long before and there was naught left to do but to continue what they had fallen into.

Goro grabbed Akira’s hand and placed it back on the buttons of his shirt, in no uncertain way telling him to continue what he had been doing previously. He captured the other’s lips again, clamping his teeth down on the bottom lip, not hard enough to drawn blood, but certainly hard enough for a distinct jolt of pain to be felt. His tongue swiped against the affected area, a token effort to sooth before he started exploring his mouth. 

Akira bit back at Goro’s lip _hard,_ offering a small peck in a mockingly soothing gesture. **Don’t challenge me when you’ve already seen what happens,** he thought.

There was the snap of hips, crotches grinding and heat pooling, making them physically aroused. Goro felt like he could get off just with this alone, but that would satisfy neither of their need for closeness, of flesh against flesh. His fingers scrabbled at Akira’s blazer, almost tearing off the buttons as he undid them.

It did not take much prodding for Akira to get the point about Goro’s shirt; he unbuttoned it hastily, pulling the fabric from him with each button. He kissed at Goro’s jaw as he worked, pressing his lips insistently along his neck, collarbone, and eventually over his heart.

His fingers traced at the exposed skin of Goro’s torso, pressing into the warm skin to feel the muscle beneath. His hand eventually smoothed over his side and slid downward, palming at his backside before squeezing at it. He knew, somehow, it was what Goro wanted.

**Still think I’m demure?**

Never once in the entire time Goro knew Akira did he think that the other did everything he did with nothing less than passion. This was not any different and the fact that the other answered his challenge, like he knew he would, just cemented that fact. The lips and teeth on his neck, the hand squeezing and palming at his backside and the small, small taste of flesh against was making him dizzy and eager and, before he could even think of something else, he wrapped his arms around Akira’s middle, lifting him up onto his shoulder.

_We’re not doing this here!_

He quickly made his way to his bedroom, having a bit of trouble opening the door with only one hand. But he managed and as soon as the door was open, he rushed, dropping Akira unceremoniously onto the bed and moving to straddle him before the other could react. He made short work of removing his shirt and blazer, making sure that Akira was looking at him as he did so.

_Feel like challenging me again?~_

It was purposeful this time, because the other was at his best, his most attractive when he was challenged. He grabbed the end of Akira’s turtleneck and pulled upwards, conveying without words, or even thought, that he expected to be helped with removing it.

 **Didn’t think of you as the thoughtful type,** Akira scoffed. **But you always did surprise me.**

He accepted Goro’s challenge as one not of distance, but speed. He quickly peeled away his shirt, shaking his head as it passed over his shoulders. He threw it to the floor with a hint of _rage_ ; he was eager to continue, common sense and rationality draining from him as his groin warmed and his pants began to feel uncomfortable.

His hands hurriedly made their way to Goro’s belt, making easy work of the buckle and sliding it from the loops of his pants with a fluid, quick _snap_. A flash of a thought - not his own - went through his mind. Akira looked up at Goro, belt still in hand, and smirked. Goro was the more experienced of them in this regard.

**Really?**

He tossed the belt to the floor in response to the quick thought; at this point, Akira could tell which thoughts were unconscious, and that thought certainly was one of them. He undid the button and zipper of Goro’s pants, slipping them off to his knees as a free hand palmed at his ass again. 

He was tempted - very tempted, given the overwhelming arousal in his body and mind - to go immediately for his cock, but something about Goro’s challenge to him made him want to hold out. He squeezed at his backside instead, and slid his free hand over Goro’s torso–

**…what are these scars?**

_I didn’t have a healing Persona…_

That was all the explanation that was needed for the presence of the of scarred flesh that dotted Goro’s torso. His previous occupation was not one without risk and considering that most of them occurred in the Metaverse and that he often had to take care of them himself, it wouldn’t be a surprise that he had a few marks. How would one explain wounds gains in mankind’s collective unconscious, anyway?

Really, the only way he negatively felt about this was the initial way he balked at the vulnerability this presented, even if the person looking at them was someone he…dare he say it–he trusted…

Spurred on by the snap of the belt being removed, he kicked off the rest of his trousers, kicking them off to land where they may on the floor. His arousal was obvious in the tent of his boxers and he let out a quiet groan at the hand palming his backside. He did not think he would have liked someone constantly going in that direction, but Akira had a certain way of groping…

_You keeping grabbing at me like you wanted to do it for ages~_

**Maybe I did.**

Akira’s hands found their way to Goro’s hips, guiding him between his legs as his lips kissed back hungrily. Goro’s mouth was almost too warm, with desperate hot breaths stolen between the sliding and smacking of their lips. Akira relaxed into the enthusiasm at last, darting his tongue into Goro’s mouth with a touch of languid curiosity, slowing down just enough to _savor_ him. Something tugged at the back of his mind that Goro had never been _appreciated._ Certainly, it was something the dark-haired boy _knew -_ the detective made no secret of his upbringing - but now, he could feel a certain need for closeness that Goro had never articulated. 

**I don’t care about the scars.**

Akira’s legs wrapped around Goro’s sides, pulling him in closer. He gasped and shuddered ever so slightly at the feeling of hot pressure rutting up against his dick and found himself minutely bucking into the sensation. He had not been touched like this before - not by anything other than his hand, anyway. 

Impatient fingers dug into Goro’s sides, urging him to push against him. It was a feral, _desperate_ move, and while he was not sure _whose_ thought it was anymore, Akira was certain he needed some relief…

**Just keep going…**

Heat and sensation made Goro inhale into the kiss, tugging at Akira’s hair, a groan rumbling between their chests as the other encouraged him with his fingers to rut against him, something that he never needed prompting to do, but indulged anyway. There seemed to be a little inexperience in the way Akira gripped him with his fingers and, even without the benefit of their connection, Goro could easily discern that this was the first time anyone had ever touched Akira in this regard. He was like freshly fallen snow and he was the first to make footprints in it.

_I’m your first…_

There was a certain sense of playful smugness as Goro broke the kiss to practically tear the boxers off the both of them, removing the last barrier between them. It was not malicious, just awed; like he had a hard time believing the opportunity he had been given. Like he was able to leave an indelible mark on Akira, that he was able to leave an impact, that he could rightly say that he had been here before anyone else.

Disorientation should have been the first thing Akira felt - that, and maybe a hint of anxiety. Instead, he felt a surreal calm wash over him, steady and reverent, once Goro removed the last bits of fabric that separated them. The needy, buzzing energy that had animated him before stilled, and an encouraging, otherworldly warmth coursed through his veins instead. As his eyes shut, Akira slowly realized the source of the soothing heat was from _his wrist._ His own heart wanted this - that much he couldn’t hide anymore - but the _bond itself_ wanted and needed this, enough to coax and urge both of them on.

Akira didn’t need the bond to read Goro’s sentiments, however. There was a certain arrogance in the way his lips quirked as he worked, and the expedient way he stripped them both spoke of a primal, all-consuming craving that boiled in his blood. This was not a want anymore - this was a need. Akira felt himself throb in a mix of anticipation and anxiousness. 

_I’ll be your last, too._

Goro had finally found someone who had been deigned to be perfectly matched with him, someone who’s entire first experience would be him. But he did not just want that one experience; he wanted to see how many expressions Akira could make when he touched him just right, the sounds he would make. It was desperate and all-encompassing and as much as Goro wanted to savour this experience, his passion was overwhelming him. He grabbed Akira’s leaking dick, swirling the thumb over the head to smear pre-cum and bending his head down to bite at Akira’s shoulder.

_You won’t want anyone else!_

**I’ll follow your lead--**

A choked, clipped gasp tugged from his lips when he felt Goro’s fingers wrap around his cock. His grasp was steady, firm, and confident. The feeling of someone else touching him was too new for him not to respond: his eyes slammed shut and he bit his lip, trying to hold back from making any more noise. He knew he was quiet, but this was _overwhelming._

Akira brought his hand to Goro’s hair to stroke and tug at it. He wanted - needed to touch him, to give reassurance and encouragement. For Akira, that came in the form of physical contact. That same calming warmth flooded his veins as he allowed Goro to keep exploring. He was not sure if it was the bond or Goro’s confidence that soothed him.

Goro pulled back, observing Akira’s expression for a moment, before reaching into the bedside table and pulling out a small bottle of lube. He poured a good amount over his fingers, making sure that the other could see what he was doing before setting it aside, hovering over the other again and stroking that ring of muscle with a single finger. He gave Akira another long, lingering kiss.

The person laying down underneath him presented a certain picture to Goro; from the flushed expression, the need and want in his eyes, the warmth of the translucent cuff around both their wrists and the heat of the cock in his hands. It was an oddly vulnerable sight, that spoke of a strange kind of trust that had a warm rush of affection pour through his heart. He let go of the other’s erection, placing his hand in his hair and bending down for a loving kiss. Just a moment for Goro to convey this feeling of love that had overtaken him.

_Don’t worry… You’ll be alright…_

The feeling of a finger circling his entrance was strange to Akira; a mix of human body heat and slightly-cool gel. He shivered at the change in temperature, trying his best to stay calm. The cuff on his arm seemed to respond to his anxiety, sending pulses of warmth through his veins. **Why does this thing want this for us?** The bind seemed to have a mind of its own.

Small huffs of breath escaped him after a few seconds of the treatment; the skin there was too sensitive for him to be a monolith to the ministrations. Once it stopped, it hit him: **This is actually happening.**

Goro slowly pushed the first finger in.

Akira breathed through clenched teeth and flexed his feet, letting his eyes close when he felt the first finger press against him for entrance. Once it pushed past and was inside him, Akira’s eyes opened and his mouth was slightly agape from the smallest of sighs. He struggled to regain composure, trying in vain to close his eyes and steady his breathing. Goro’s face seemed too happy, too loving, too thrilled to look away…

_Shhhh… Just relax. It won’t hurt too much…_

Goro slowly entered a second finger, while the thumb on the other hand smeared leaking pre-cum around the head and it served to remind him, more than the cuff indicated, to be frank, that he was going to have sex with a guy he was down to kill not _two hours ago!_

Still, that warmth was distracting, and he doubled his concentration on making Akira feel good.

The second digit was not as overwhelming as the first for Akira, owing to the bond that urged them to continue. He knew it was coming, logically and cognitively; he let his eyes relax and close as he endeavoured to steady himself for Goro’s sake. He was not sure if it was the physical sensation or _nerves_ , but it seemed he couldn’t keep his right leg from shivering from time to time. He bit at his bottom lip and swallowed back the anxiety with a soft grunt that stayed in his throat, finding himself more invested in the hand pumping at him than anything else.

Eventually, Akira brought his right hand to touch Goro’s free wrist to get his attention. He opened his eyes and looked at him through delirious, hazy eyes, seeing the mix of excitement and nervousness that seemed to play on each of his features. He did not speak, but instead held his gaze.

The thought seemed to be a visceral impulse even he could not explain: **_Do it._**

It took only took one look for Goro to discern what Akira was communicating to him; that he was done as he was ever going to be.

Goro did not need to ask, verbally or through their bond if this was truly what he wanted. They had both wanted this, encouraged by the warmth of the cuff, which just seemed to bring their attention to the attraction that was always there, rather than just giving it to them. There was no going back from this. Goro nodded, pulling back only to slather some more lube on his own erection before settling himself top of his lover again, lining up the tip against his entrance.

He gave another kiss as he slowly pushed through.

Akira’s mouth went slack, lips half-open with shock at the sensation. For a moment, it seemed like it was not real; the warm stretching and intrusion was unlike anything he’d physically experienced before. He closed his eyes instinctively, too overwhelmed by the feeling of Goro’s cock pressing into him to let himself see.

For a moment, Akira clenched his teeth and bit at his lip in an attempt to tamp down any noise. Though Goro moved slowly - carefully, he was certain - the novelty of it all kept it from feeling _pleasant._ The closeness, the heat, and strangeness of the situation was exciting - intoxicating, even - but he was not feeling anything good _physically_ besides the sensation of being filled once Goro sheathed himself completely inside him.

_No need for that. I want to hear everything._

Slowly, Akira opened his eyes to look at Goro’s face. His eyes were hazy and doting, but his mouth was taut with pressure and anxiety. At least they were on the same page in that regard, Akira thought: **neither of us can believe this is happening.**

He did not need their bond to sense that the other was still adjusting, still uncomfortable and it brought out a sense of sympathy. He reached out and cupped Akira’s cheek with one hand, leaning in for a kiss, a soothing affectation.

_I want you all to myself…_

Goro wanted to see and hear Akira in the throes of pleasure, was looking forward to seeing him misty-eyed and delirious as he pounded into him. He wanted to leave an indelible mark, an unforgettable memory that would stay with him. he wanted to be the best experience the other ever had, would ever want to have… 

He pulled out a little bit and thrust back in, groaning against the other’s lips.

For a split second, the feeling of Goro pulling out brought a mix of relief and sorrow; the strangeness had passed, yes, but something told him he wanted - no, _needed_ \- the closeness. His hands slid to Goro’s shoulders, fingertips pressing into the skin to compensate for the lack of contact.

Akira gasped a hot breath against Goro’s skin when he felt the other’s dick slam into him once more. He bit his lip again once his eyes instinctively shut - a weak attempt at composure - and tried to deny the way his leg trembled from the shock. He hummed in quick, detached lines, slowly warming up to the way Goro worked and realizing it was starting to feel _good._

Once again, Goro found himself hyper-focused on Akira and his reactions, even as he made slow, yet precise thrusts in and out of him. Some part of his partner still wanted to keep his composure, even after the thought had been broadcast that he wanted him loud and wild abandon. Still, even the efforts the other had made to keep some level of calm was erotic in its own way. It certainly did not detract from the satisfying way Akira seemed to squeeze around him, his hole sheathing his dick in the best way. Still, these efforts only amplified his desire to smash that composure…

So he wrapped a hand around Akira’s upper thigh, pulling on it so he was able to raise the leg so that it was bent at the knee, allowing Goro another angle thrust at, giving him better access, hearing that viscerally satisfying noise of skin slapping against skin. He bent his head down as he did this, placing his mouth roughly at the junction between Akira’s neck and collarbone, biting hard enough to leave a mark.

And there was no method to help Akira process what was happening; trying was a fruitless endeavour. Closing his eyes only amplified the sounds of his body shifting in bed from Goro’s impassioned manhandling, of skin sliding and slapping together, and even the small sound of his lips pressing to his skin before the _bite._

A groan - full bodied, louder than he had wanted - tore from his lips as he opened his eyes, finally giving up on the false sense of control he had created around himself. More warmth emanated from the cuff on his wrist; the bond urged this, encouraged this, just like the pressure and stimulation that spread through his body. Despite the lack of attention, Akira’s cock throbbed with a small twitch; he considered bringing a free hand to it to help before a novel shock of pleasure rocked him. 

Desperately, Akira brought his hands to Goro’s shoulders, digging into the skin as if to urge him forward. Whatever he had pressed, whatever Goro had done - _he needed it again._

Akira saw a satisfied, smug smirk curl onto Goro’s lips before he gave another brisk thrust. Before he knew it, he _moaned,_ swearing under his breath as his eyes rolled back and slid shut.

“Akira–”

It was one of the few times he spoke verbally during this whole exchange; when he felt Akira squeeze around him, digging in nails, when he hear him _moan_ , completely and without filter, whatever filter Goro himself had blew away. A small, unconscious movement, before he started thrusting without pause and without any pretence of gentleness. He slid in and out easily as he rammed into Akira hard, gripping his hips in a way that was sure to leave marks.

_Akira, Akira, Akira–_

Goro was not sure if his inner thoughts or his own tongue were uttering the other’s name, all that he knew was that he was close, so close–

\--Akira’s left hand found its way to Goro’s hair, stroking at it and tugging at it. His free hand went swiftly to his cock to stroke it - he craved the stimulation, _needed_ it, despite how the welcome pressure bloomed inside him that brought him closer to the edge.

He looked up at Goro with hazy eyes, mouth slack, and tried to understand _how_ this had all happened. Between the druglike way the chain encouraged him, the _pleasure_ of it all, and the strange _honesty_ of the situation, it was hard to think - almost as if something didn’t _want_ him to think. He found his resolve decaying as he saw the elation on the other’s face; he wanted to forget and let it happen, just for a moment--

**_That’s it, that’s it, just keep going–_ **

It was almost sensory overload; all at once Goro’s grip tightened, his movements increased a little and the image of Akira swearing under his breath, desperately stroking at his own cock while Goro pounded into him not only brought a feeling of just teetering over the edge, but of warm, fuzzy, all-encompassing affection. He took once hand from the other’s hips, brought it to his hair and stole another kiss, practically breathing in Akira as he thrust, movements, becoming so very erratic–

_Akira, Akira, I lov–_

And then, before he was fully prepared, Goro was cumming into Akira with a few final, jerky thrusts. It was warm and exhausting and wet and definitely messy, but it mattered little when it felt like he called Akira’s name, his vision going white for a moment in time.

Akira’s legs instinctively stilled when Goro buried his cock inside him to the hilt as it twitched against his warm walls and slicked them with cum. His eyes went wide as he remembered to breathe again, panting heavy, deep breaths into the too-hot air. His hands moved to Goro’s shoulders, gripping them for stability as he tried to adjust to the strange, squelching fullness and the warm, sticky fluid dripping onto his skin and the sheets. It was not _bad,_ but it was not _enough._

Akira took a moment to look away from Goro and to his own half-hard dick. The novelty of the situation - the fact that it even _happened -_ was too surreal to adjust to, even with the red chain working to synchronize their feelings. He was close - of his own accord and from the faint shared orgasm - but he needed more.

Finally, he spoke - a nervous whisper that felt equally redundant and necessary. “Goro – I haven’t…”

He did not need Akira’s quiet words to tell that he wasn’t quite there yet…

So, he did not feel the need to verbally reply back; instead, he withdrew his own cock out of Akira with a squelch, taking a moment to collect himself from the climax he just had. It was dizzying, not helped by the prodding heat of their bond. While he blinked himself into awareness, he saw the other’s erection, veined and dripping pre-cum. It did not take a genius to figure that Akira wouldn’t need much help. So, with a sudden urge to show off, he parted the other’s legs, gently grasping the dick in his hands.

_Watch me closely, Akira…_

And without taking his eyes off Akira, he wrapped his mouth around his cock, going lower and lower.

“Ah–”

Akira gasped unreservedly at the novel, sudden slick heat around his cock. A few shallow pants followed as he laboured to keep his eyes open. He wanted to watch - wanted to take in every detail - and the smooth, taunting, downright _arrogant_ way Goro instructed him to keep watch only encouraged him, despite it all.

His eyes stayed glued on the other, transfixed at the sight of Goro slowly but surely taking every bit of his erection down his throat. He was certain he’d stop or gag, but he was undeterred. Akira throbbed in his mouth, feeling the thickly-slicked walls of his cheek and throat wrap around him; it took all his self-control not to cum at the sight of Goro’s lips touching his curls.

His toes curled, making a sharp cracking noise, and his hand went quickly to Goro’s hair to grasp it, half pulling and half petting him in encouragement.

It almost did not make sense to him.

_It doesn’t have to make sense. I don’t need anything else but you_

Even with his mouth full of Akira’s dick, it did not stop the smirk trying to form when he heard the other gasp unabashedly. Combined with the hand pulling his hair and he was certain that the best thing he knew how to do when it came to sex was working. And that Akira, of all people, was just as weak to it was stroking his ego very pleasantly. Even setting aside the other’s obvious virginity before, he was certain that this was a new experience for him.

_Yes…no one else has done this for you before._

After a few moments of letting Akira get used to the shape of his throat, he slowly took the erection out of his throat, before swallowing it again, starting a slow, bobbing rhythm.

_You’ll be begging for this again and again. You’ll remember this, remember me, forever!_

The thin hairs on Akira’s skin stood on end when a sensuous drip of new energy smoothed down his spine. Warmth - not white-hot _heat_ \- spread across his skin and soaked into his muscles. Akira _melted_ ; his eyes slid shut, his fingers dragged through Goro’s hair, and any lingering trace of resistance dissipated like vapor into the air.

A pleased, quick grunt escape Akira’s lips from his throat in response to the smooth, moist walls that tightened around his dick like a vice. Without any reservations or shame, Akira bucked into Goro’s mouth with short, staccato thrusts, aching for more stimulation. He _refused_ to be so passive to the other’s ministrations.

Pleasant, overwhelming pressure build between Akira’s legs - stronger than any time he had ever touched himself. The way Goro’s throat tensed in time with his own thrusts was addicting; he could feel himself getting closer with every throb and cant–

Suddenly, Goro’s own thoughts mixed and blurred into the syrupy haze Akira’s understanding had become. Feelings of _intense_ jealousy - of Ann, Ryuji, Haru - followed by a smug, _possessive_ pride that clung to his skin like a tight cocoon. The constriction was strangely alluring, but it was the honesty and _love_ that took him over the edge.

Akira could practically hear the thought: **_I don’t need anything else but you._**

It should not have captivated him, but it was _real._ With a few jerky, desperate thrusts, Akira found his cock soon twitching against the walls of the other’s throat, coating them in heavy, thick streams of cum.

A faint thought he knew he could not conceal arose: **Swallow it.**

Goro was already way ahead of the thought that filtered through his brain, drinking up the cum that had splashed the back of his throat and the sides of his mouth. He removed the other’s cock from his mouth, wiping away any excess saliva that had leaked from the side of his mouth. He gazed at Akira for a long, long moment, observing the other as he lay there in a state of post-orgasm bliss…

_This is…I…_

He snapped himself out of those thoughts, not even wanting to entertain them. He slowly slipped himself under the other’s arm, throwing his own arm over the other’s waist, clinging tightly. He did not want to think…he just wanted to be close. To forget until tomorrow.

_Until tomorrow…just let me hold you…_

Akira’s body ached. His hips stung from the nails that roughly raked across them, his thighs burned from the pressure of another body slamming against them, and the emptiness he felt when Goro withdrew from him only amplified the strange stinging that came from the stretch of him. Sweat glazed his skin, and the orgasm that had washed over his body left him exhausted. The only thing that could make it stranger was if he had been left alone; the feeling of a warm body holding him close was welcome.

Despite his lethargy, Akira brought a heavy arm around Goro to pull him closer. His fingers lazily found their way into the other’s hair. That was enough - there was no need to break the silence and warmth of it the moment. After all, they could not hide anything from each other anymore.

Akira closed his eyes and let himself begin to fall under the thrall of sleep. Thoughts no longer passed through him, but feelings did: **_pleasure, hunger, thirst, fear, guilt…._**

He held Goro closer as he eventually succumbed, too tired, and overwhelmed to keep fighting off the urge to rest.

\---------------

The kitchen was filled with the sounds of a frying pan and the smells of sweet bread. The sizzle of oil was interrupted by the cook using a spatula to flip over the pancake, only to start again when it hit the pan wet-side down.

This had to be the most awkward morning-after he had ever experienced, making apology pancakes for his ~~lover~~ ~~friend~~ former-enemy. Usually, anyone he spent the night with would have already been gone before he went to sleep the previous night. What did he even have to feel guilt for in this cas–

_Oh yes…I made him betray his friends for sex…_

With a very pronounced flip of the spatula, he placed the last pancake onto the small pile he made, sitting beside a steaming cup of instant coffee. Akira was just going to have to live with it. It’s not like he had a fancy French press in his tiny apartment.

He lifted the meal, heading towards his bedroom, using his backside to open the door.

“Are you awake, Akira…?”

Akira struggled to look Goro in the eyes when he came in. He had meant every word: about liking him, about being drawn to him, about being willing to try, about believing his friends would forgive him. It just happened so fast, so irrationally…

….and to think he liked it made it all the worse.

At no point in his life did Akira hate himself. He may have been angry, frustrated, and downright hostile, but he had the comfort of knowing he had never betrayed his sense of right and wrong. In this moment, however, the acid churning in his stomach seemed fitting punishment: he took orders from a chain and his loins instead of his heart and his head. 

He had already blearily looked at the “10 missed messages” and “2 missed calls” on his phone’s screen. He had no idea how to respond to them - and he felt he didn’t deserve their worry. Instead, he let his sore body and tired limbs sink deeper into the soiled sheets, ashamed.

Akira was still cloaked in covers when he acknowledged him.

“Yeah, I’m up,” he answered. He would have found the “apology breakfast” cute if it were not for the _reality_ of the situation sinking in.

“The coffee is instant,” said Goro as he laid the tray on Akira’s lap, awkwardly sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I don’t have a press…”

It was meant to be a quip, but it just sounded tired, even to him, so whatever effect he was going for ended up lost. He could not stick the awkward silence, so he fished out his phone, desperate to occupy his thoughts with anything else. He winced at all the missed calls and texts that filled the notifications on his phone, blood running cold when he realised that Shido made up the majority of them. When he wanted to make his ire known, he usually just sent a single text, or made a single phone call.

But the ire pouring from these messages told him that he should have taken a train…

Of course, there were a few texts from Sae, oddly less accusatory then he thought and more worried. Another cold lick of dread as he checked the news…

“…Apparently, we both died in a murder-suicide…”

A dry hum was Akira’s only response to both statements. He already knew that the coffee wasn’t fresh, that the breakfast was not up to Goro’s standards and yes, even that they were both declared dead to the world. Akira’s head was looming over his phone’s screen, still reading the distressed messages and headlines.

 **[TXT] Makoto:** Akira, if this is some kind of joke, it isn’t funny. We did everything right.   
**[TXT] Makoto:** Please. Just answer us. The news is saying Akechi is dead, too…

 **[TXT] Ryuji:** What the hell happened?! I mean, we knew this was comin’, but you were supposed to come back!!  
 **[TXT] Ryuji:** And where’s Akechi?! I don’t believe for a second that bastard’s dead.

 **[TXT] Haru:** Please, message someone when you’re safe. I can’t believe you’re gone, too.

 **[TXT] Yusuke:** I cannot begin to fathom the rigor of your ordeal, leader. But please, don’t abandon us. To think they felled you…no, impossible.   
  
**[TXT] Anne:** We all know the media lies, especially about the Phantom Thieves. This is all just spin for control.  
 **[TXT] Anne:** Akira, don’t leave us hanging like this. I won’t believe you’re dead. Please, just answer us!!!

 **[TXT] Futaba:** Sojiro hasn’t called the police, but he’s worried…  
 **[TXT] Futaba:** Morgana is too…and me…

He had not even tried to listen to the voicemails: one from the Kurusu house landline, and one from Dad’s cell phone. **How could I betray all of them?**

Akira managed, anaemically, to shove those thoughts out of his mind for a quick moment. He finally looked at Goro and with a sad laugh, finally asked, “Oh? Who killed who?”

Goro swiped a finger over the screen, sardonically looking over the details given to him.

“Apparently, it was me who killed you before turning the gun on myself, using that small moment of time when we were alone in the interrogation room. I even left a note and it’s as despair-inducing and hopelessly romantic as one might think.”

Another swipe to another tab, where someone had apparently leaked said note…

“I was in utter despair that my lover was the criminal I had chased so hard, so out of a misguided sense of protection, I decided to kill you and then do the same so I could join you…”

He let the phone drop onto the bed sheets, looking oddly miffed.

“Look, I had the advantage of studying Wakaba’s writing for several months, so that I could write a good facsimile of her, so you’d think they’d do the same! I’d never write like this! It’s a wonder people didn’t see the ruse from the start!”

A tense silence hung in the room. Akira had known, somehow, that Goro was the one who wrote the note. Perhaps it had been the shackle that bound them together, but even before he knew of its existence, there was a _feeling_ those self-loathing, bitter words had always been his. His eyes lingered on the swath of sheets at his feet before he heaved a resigned sigh.

“I see,” he mumbled with still-dry lips. Another long, heavy pause separated them as Akira took a sparse sip of coffee to center himself.

He turned to glance at Goro, eyes dull with unhappiness and even _regret._ Words failed him in that moment - what more could be said? 

Goro could not even look Akira in the eye for long, as he looked down at his hands, creaking the leather of his gloves as he flexed and relaxed his fingers constantly.

“Akira…”

It was foolish, madness! He had messed everything up; not only his own plans, which he had spent years and years putting into place, but he had also messed up the plans of the other. He could not have cared less about Akira’s plans a week ago, even last night… But this damnable chain ruined so many things for the both of them. He was failing to see how it was a blessing; Finding your soulmate a once-in-a-lifetime chance at happiness and yet it felt like anything but…

“My plans are done and neither of us are capable of killing the other. I think it’s best I disappear…”

His hands clenched into fists…

“You can still come out of this good in your friends’ eyes. Tell them you fought and killed me to escape. It could still work for you…”

“No.”

The word was a cold dagger: clear, cutting, and final. Any semblance of sorrow that had soaked into his skin froze and shattered; now there was only determination and _spite._

 **I don’t run from my mistakes** _,_ Akira thought.

_A mistake, huh?_

Not that Goro could blame him, but it still smarted.

Beneath the regret, Akira felt a lingering fondness. Perhaps it was the sex, the bond, or the friendship they had nurtured over the last several months, but he could not abandon Goro. He had been abandoned enough.

Instead, Akira gestured to the space next to him with his free hand. His glare was uncompromising, and his voice was stern. “Sit. We’re accomplices now.”

It took a long moment for Goro to take up Akira’s offer, slowly seating himself beside the other, not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the other’s body heat. Even without the help of the chain, Goro was suddenly hyper-aware of Akira’s presence beside him, felt more keenly than anything he had felt before…

“I am a murderer, Akira. Eight people have fallen because of me, at least half of them directly because of me. If I do turn myself in, my reputation is shattered, along with any who associate with me…”

An old hurt lanced his heart, memories of being alone in a crowded room, of being judged just for existing and now…the thought that would spill unto someone else…onto Akira…

“You are already on probation. Do you really want to suffer more? Is it not better to let justice take its course? Do you really wish to suffer my fate as well?”

“That’s not justice,” Akira snapped. The guilt that flowed from Goro’s heart to his own was like poison: viscous, destructive, lethal. His own heart instinctively rejected it; the feeling of it made him sick.

He took another sip of the diluted, cooled coffee. “If you had a choice,” he started, “would you have done those things?”

**Was killing your goal from the start, Goro?**

**_‘–Isshiki is dead.’_ **

**_‘…W-What…?’_ **

**_‘Keeled over into the traffic as she crossed the road. We are not sure of she died before being run over or the vehicle killed her. Either way, she is no longer a nuisence.’_ **

**_Sick, sick, feeling sick, cold, oh god I killed someone, I thought she would just be a bit loopy for a while, but she’s dead, dead, dead dead deaddeaddeaddeaddead–_ **

“No…No, it was supposed to be like that…”

After that moment, Goro spent a lot of time in his room, desperately wishing for things to turn back, for Wakaba Isshiki to be alive and well. But Shido always wanted more and it never, never got any easier. He was always sick, always in pain until…gradually, it just stopped feeling awful. He stopped feeling anything at all. He just…stopped feeling.

“I just…wanted a chance to bring him to my level, to suffer like I did…and then to acknowledge me…”

**Then we have more in common than I thought.**

Naked empathy urged Akira to pull Goro closer to him, swaddled up in blankets in the bed. He placed the cup of coffee down on the nightstand next to them and wrapped his arms around the other. The cuff on his wrist warmed, encouraging him to continue.

“You can still hold him accountable.” The words were solemn, bitter even, but with a strange tinge of hope and openness.

**You could come back with us. Tell everyone the truth.**

Akira knew it would be hard, but he was used to making the impossible possible.

Goro hugged him back, with a surprising lack of reservation, his own arms going under Akira’s and his head going to his chest. His eyes stung with tears and he was certain that the other would notice it on his naked chest, but, at this point, Goro was far beyond caring.

_I’ll go back with you…_

And there it was. Because it was Akira who wormed his way into Goro’s heart, currently warmed his bed and was offering him this second chance. The same person who saw all his ugliness and faced it head-on. And he didn’t want to poison this… Not anymore.

_Because it’s you. It’s always you…and always will be…_

“Do you want to stay here for now?” **We’ll need to figure out how to explain this.**

The feeling of another person so close to him was comforting and novel. Despite how much Akira knew they had to face reality, a part of him wanted a little more time to settle into the truth of what was happening between them. 

He hugged Goro tighter as a thought passed through his mind.

**Do you think Futaba already knows? After all–**

Starting with one person who maybe already understood would be an easier way to go about things. In the least, Akira felt it would lend more credibility to the idea.

In lieu of a verbal or even telepathic response, Goro tugged slight on Akira’s body, manoeuvring them until they lay side by side, his head on the other’s shoulder, an arm around his waist and legs tangled. Just a little more time… They could forget the world, reality, Shido, the thieves, the inevitable consequences…

It could all wait a little longer…

_I wish…that everyone could see it…_

The weak hit of caffeine from Goro’s so-called coffee couldn’t rouse Akira to fight against the strange relaxation that spread across his skin and down his spine. The world could - and would - wait. He shifted against the warm body pressed to his own and without a second thought brought the blankets around them.

His free hand opened his phone and tapped out a meagre group message to the thieves.

 **[TEXT]** We’re okay. Explain later.

He tossed his phone to the floor and closed his eyes, ignoring the muffled _buzz_ of messages. 

**[TEXT - Niijima]:** “We?” Kurusu, you don’t mean…  
 **[TEXT - Sakamoto]:** Wait, is Akechi with you?!  
 **[TEXT - Kitagawa]:** Akechi is the only person I can think you’d be with, but, why?  
 **[TEXT - Takamaki]:** He better not be holding you hostage! Tell us where you are!!  
 **[TEXT - Okumura]:** Please, don’t leave us waiting for an explanation…  
 **[TEXT - Sakura]:** Sojiro won’t call the police, but…you need to come back now.


	2. Chain Link - Futaba Sakura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you're the Navi of the group, you tend to see things most others don't... Futaba knows this well...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based on a shared HC between me and my RP partner, that Futaba would be the only human, besides Goro and Akira, who could see the chain. This will be the first of these side stories. Maybe more will be added, if inspiration strikes~

The tap, tap, tap of the keys she hit was rhythmic and satisfied something deep in her sugar-fried brain, especially combined with the satisfaction that came from seeing her strings of code work like a well-oiled Rube Goldberg Machine. With a final, triumphant clack, she hit the final key, sitting back and stretching her arms above her head. She yawned, and the smell of coffee and curry hit her, reminding Futaba that, indeed, she was in LeBlanc. She was about to call for Akira to bring her sustenance when the bell rang.

And in came Goro Akechi; Bishie Detective Extraordinaire.

She opened up a new tab, going to 10chan, while she kept a sneaky eye on Sketchy Akechi, who made an instant beeline to Akira, who gave him a smile. Akira, as ever, was a good host, immediately making Akechi’s usual, while talking amicably with him? Honestly, she was never sure; it always sounded like some sorta tiff. Like the passive-aggressive one married couples would have, which also a weird thought; Like Akira and Akechi were the stereotypical rivals in gay fanfic, always enjoying verbal duels. She could be wrong about this too, as she had as much of a grasp on social cues as Ryuji did on subtlety.

But the Chain…

The Red Chain told a whole different story…

Prometheus never steered her wrong, there was a link there, opaque, red, and clipping through furniture like a 3D-Model in a Part Stadium 2 game. Futaba also remembered that the middle of the chain got more opaque, almost disappearing if Akira and Akechi got far enough apart, but she didn’t need her Persona to tell her that the Chain, that connection was still there. She didn’t know if either of them knew if it was there at all.

Akira gave Akechi a look, a smile, something the other returned and suddenly, Futaba felt guilty, like she walked in on something. She panicked a little when Akira’s eyes caught hers and she turned her attention back to the tab she had opened, welcoming the distraction of walls of text as she drawled the boards.

She grumbled to herself. There was no use bringing it up now, anyway…


End file.
